It was a Saturday morning around 11 am. I was watching both boys by myself while their dad was at drill for the weekend. They needed a haircut so I took them to the Great Clips just down the street from our house. It was a normal trip, or at least I thought it would be. Henry sat in the chair and at three years old, he was nervous but did just fine. Carter however, felt like he had known the hairdresser since he was out of the womb. He proceeded to tell her both parents names, their addresses, where they worked, and anything else you would need to either steal a person’s identity or rob them blind. It seems funny, but this is the seventh time he’s done that. He might feel more comfortable because he knows I won’t scold him like his dad will. (Just wait until I tell his dad, cue evil stepmother laugh.) He then proceeds to go into great detail of who I am and why he believes his parents divorce occurred. The hairdresser looks at me with a frown as if she is sad for him, but also with darting eyes. She is a mother herself. (Some DNA mothers tend to do this to stepmothers because the thought of another woman in their kids lives scares and angers them.) Mind you, I am in no way shape or form the reason for their divorce. I am clearly not pleased with the conversation and I politely ask her to hurry it up as we have other things we need to do for the day. I begin to entice the children to change the subject by telling them I will get them toys if they remain in good behavior. (The fastest way to get what you want is to bribe children with toys. It’s the oldest trick in the stepmother book.)
The haircuts are done and we walk over to Target to obtain the toys that were promised for each child. That went relatively smooth. In and out in under 30 minutes…after having to touch every single toy in the store to determine which one felt just right. I realize we need a couple things from the grocery store for dinner, so we walk over to Albertson’s. Little did I know, the most epic meltdown I’ve ever seen Henry throw was about to occur. I only needed three small items at the grocery store, all of which could easily fit into one hand without any trouble. However, when we walked in, there was a car cart. The ones that children can pretend to drive. It truly is like driving a semi-truck through an narrow grocery store with other people and children as objects you must miss to pass the driving test. If you would like your child to learn how to drive, simply give them one of these carts at the grocery store and you will be able to tell if they will be successful at driving. I told Henry no since we only needed a few objects. He proceeded to have an all out meltdown. As we walked in the second set of doors, he dropped to the ground and began hitting the tile while screaming bloody murder. People walked out of the aisles to inquire if I was beating him to death. While this was crossing my mind, I thought it best not to. I attempted to plead and beg for him to stop. It did not work. I then threatened to take away his newly purchased toy. I was unsuccessful. I grabbed him by the arm and dragged both kids out to the car. I told Henry that he was not going to have his toy and he would also not have dinner since I could not purchase anything to make dinner. The meltdown continued all the way home. The crying stopped, but is was followed by the whine. You know the one where they just make noise to let you know they are there and want attention? It sounds like a donkey has accentuated his sounds. “Ehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”
Thankfully, I left him in the living room and went to the kitchen to attempt to find something for dinner and it gradually stopped. At least that meltdown did. Three year old’s can find a reason to have a meltdown about anything.